As Sakura watched the chocolate sauce soak into the woman's silk dress she felt a flutter of bitter satisfaction in her stomach. The woman hadn't even noticed the viscous drips hit the delicately embroidered pink fabric as she greedily hoovered up the profiteroles. The chocolate was cooling now, obscuring the pretty blue cornflowers that surrounded her flat chest. Sakura was transfixed, watching the woman spill more and more hot sauce on her wonderful outfit.
Sakura didn't consider herself a jealous woman but in this last week George had seemed distant, preoccupied; something terrible was weighing heavily on his mind. They'd only been married for a month, after four months of internet dating and two months together here in Japan.
She'd dismissed her suspicions at first but now, watching him talk animatedly with this stranger at the wedding of two of George's friends, she felt sure that something was going on that she wasn't going to like. Not only was she worried about her husband getting too close to this other woman, Sakura was nervous; she'd never met any of these English people before. Most of them didn't speak Japanese and they were finding it hard to understand her attempts to communicate. Sakura had decided to get away from everyone for a while and was standing under a Cherry Blossom tree, watching the guests mill around.
George seemed enraptured by the woman's heavy, Western features. Her face seemed so large and her hair was a dirty brown, unlike Sakura's ebony waterfall of locks. He didn't even seem to notice the small drips of chocolate that had given Sakura so much pleasure to watch. Sakura was too far away to hear what they were saying but her imagination was running wild.
Although George was English, he'd always said he'd preferred the bijoux features of Japanese women. They'd often joked that his attraction to Asian women was the only reason he'd decided to do business in here.
The woman was leaning in now, whispering into George's ear. Surely they knew that someone would see them? Surely they knew she was here somewhere and that she could discover them at any moment? The pair rose and wandered towards the dance-floor. Sakura followed them surreptitiously, avoiding groups of grandparents uttering platitudes to the newlyweds. Once she was safely hidden behind a group of friends, Sakura settled down at a table to plot her revenge. Would she cut up all his suits, bury his golf clubs or poison his Koi? Violent schemes turned the cogs in her mind, never revealing themselves on her pretty face. Never before had the saying 'still waters run deep' been so apt.
As Sakura plotted her husband's eventual demise, George and the stranger had disappeared back into the hotel. Sakura didn't see them leave the dance floor and was so deep in her vicious plotting that she didn't notice George's friend, who she'd met earlier in the day, sitting behind her.
"Hey Sakura! Isn't George's step-sister gorgeous? Do you think you could set us up?" he said, confused at the look on Sakura's face.
Flash-fiction submitted to the Internet Writing Workshop in response to 'What's driving (V2)'
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